


Re-turn

by clockworkrobots



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, Fluff, M/M, Season/Series 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:42:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5103344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkrobots/pseuds/clockworkrobots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An 11.04 coda, wherein Dean comes home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Re-turn

 

They stop for the night in Rock Springs, Wyoming on their way back home. If it were just Dean, he probably would have pushed it and kept going all twenty hours back to Kansas with a busted shoulder and stinging pain all up and down his body, but Sam reminded him that showing up at the bunker half dead and dying probably wouldn’t endear Cas to the idea of ever staying back and resting when he needs it again. 

Also, with the state his baby is currently in, Dean’s worried she might not be able to handle the drive without a little break herself. 

They get a motel instead of just pulling up in some seedy ass parking lot, because Dean reasons his baby deserves the rest stop. He also probably could use actually getting some sleep, too, but Dean doesn’t really want to dwell on the idea of sleep much recently. It’s hard to get much out of his already meagre four hours when all he can see flashing before his eyes is memories of Cas lying bloody on the library floor. Sam, though, he could really use the nap time, so Dean gives in and pulls up into the lot of the Rock Springs Inn.

He lets Sam check in, and takes the opportunity of being alone to call Cas.

The line rings once before Cas’ familiar, creaky voice is answering with a perfunctory, “Hello?”

Dean can’t help but smile. “Cas, hey,” he offers in greeting, and leans back into his seat as he hears Cas let out a heavy breath of relief. 

“Oh good, so you are alright then? How did the hunt go?”

“Well, we won,” Dean hedges, not wanting to get too into the violent details and worry Cas. His back aches like a motherfucker, but he’ll be damned if he lets Cas know that right now. “Got a few battle wounds, though. Sam could do with some patching up when we get home tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Cas says, but because he’s also a clever and stubborn asshole, follows it up with a knowing, “And you?”

“I’m fine,” Dean deflects.

“ _Dean_.”

“I’m  _fine_ , Cas,” he repeats. “Nothing my memory foam mattress won’t fix, anyway.”

There’s a brief silence on Cas’ end, until he returns with a blunt: “You know I don’t believe you.”

Dean huffs, half in frustration and aching affection. “Well, anyway,” he attempts to move on. It’s not really the time to get into how confusingly in love with this guy he is. 

“Just wanted to let you know we’re stopping for the night, ‘bout halfway back. Probably will be another eight or nine hours in the mornin’, so hopefully we’ll roll back in by noon if it’s smooth sailing. Might take it a bit slow though, ‘cause my girl took a bit of a beating herself.”

“If you want, I could come meet you–” Cas begins, but Dean immediately cuts him off.

“Nice try, but no,” he declines quickly. “You sit tight and get better.”

Dean can practically _feel_  the reluctance from Cas seeping in over the call. “It’s hard to rest when I’m just hearing stories of all three of you  _limping_  back home,” he grumbles, and Dean can’t help but smile again at Cas’ use of  _“all three of you,”_  like he understands how much the Impala is part of the family, too. A warmth spreads throughout his bruised chest, and he wants to bury himself in the feeling.

“Go back to your Netflix–we’ll be back in no time,” he says, because he wants it to be true. They’ve still got a long day of driving ahead, but the promise of seeing Cas waiting for him when he walks back into the bunker that he’s learned to call home is… 

Well, it’s  _everything_.

Dean thinks back to what Sam said earlier, of settling down with someone who understood the life, understood him… 

For a long time Dean’s been telling himself there’s no such person, because to understand Dean must be to despise him, right? But Cas is… Cas is different. Always has been, since their meeting in the barn, and even earlier in the soot and shadow of the Pit. The first time he met Dean he saw  _all_  of him, and that’s always been a dually terrifying and comforting thought. In many ways, there could never be anyone else.

And despite everything, despite all the pain and loss and betrayals that have littered their mutual pasts, Dean is oddly okay with that. Because at the end of the day, he’s just _Cas_ , and really, that’s all Dean wants, or ever needs.

“Can I watch it on your laptop instead?” Cas asks, pulling Dean out of his moment of self indulgent sappiness.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Sam’s TV not working anymore or something?”

“No, it’s–” Cas pauses, and regroups. “It’s nothing rational, really. It’s just Sam’s room…”

“Yeah, it ain’t really got the homey vibe.” Dean tries to let the  _why_  of that not sting so bad, but he brushes off any pain as just residual smarting of his wounds.

“Yes, well,” Cas half-agrees. “I was going to say it doesn’t have any touch of you.”

“Right,” Dean tries to keep his voice some semblance of steady. “Uh, yeah, I mean, you can take my laptop any time. What’s mine is yours,” he says, trying desperately to hold it together. Cas doesn’t exactly make it easy, though.

“Can I–Can I use your bedroom instead?”

“Uh–”

“Not that the library is inadequate, of course, but–”

Dean takes a deep breath to steady himself. “Yeah, go ahead, man,” he says, trying to sound warm and inviting, and not like his heart is about to burst out of his chest and further stain the upholstery of his car. “Settle in. Just, um, take off your shoes if you use the bed,” he adds, because not even being hopelessly in love can stop his clean-freak tendencies.

“Of course,” Cas says, in that steady and sincere way of his, and Dean really should get off the phone now before he starts to fall apart. He spots Sam walking towards the car, and leaps for the opportunity to tap out. There’s also something about this call with Cas, and so much about his relationship with him, really, that’s not for Sam to see. 

That Dean wants to keep for himself.

“Look, Sam’s on his way back with the room key–I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“I look forward to it,” Cas says. “Good night, Dean.”

“’Night, Cas,” Dean replies, just before Sam strolls up and leans down to talk to Dean through the open driver side window.

“That Cas?” he asks.

Dean nods. “Uh, yeah. Just letting him know what’s up.”

“Cool,” Sam offers noncommittally, before glancing slyly down at Dean and slamming the lock down on the door. “I claim shower first!” he yells back over his shoulder as he strides victoriously towards their room.

“Fuck you asshole!” Dean yells after him, scrambling to unlock the door and fight his brother to the death.

 

***

 

Turns out Dean underestimated the length of their drive back by a good six or seven hours, because he failed to predict the Impala’s bumper falling off in the middle of nowhere on the highway and having to scurry to the closest town auto shop to fix it well enough until he got home (no way he was gonna let some _stranger_ fully service his baby). So by the time Dean finally opens the door to his bedroom, ready to collapse for what he’d promised himself would only be a short nap, it’s around bed time any way.

And there’s someone else already in his bed. 

Dean lets his duffle drop to the floor as he closes the door behind him, and the motion jostles Cas awake.

“Hey,” Dean says softly, trying not to spook his friend, who’s blinking blearily up at him as if surprised he’d fallen asleep at all.

“Dean,” Cas says back automatically in greeting, and then seems to finally collect himself. “I’m sorry,” he frowns down at himself, still dressed in his suit and coat, though, Dean notes, he has taken off his shoes like he’d asked. “I seem to have fallen asleep.”

“Nah, I’m glad,” Dean waves him off. “You could probably use it.”

Cas looks at him cryptically. “Angels don’t,” is all he says, and Dean isn’t sure if he sounds sad about it or if he’s just in disbelief. Maybe it’s none of those things. God knows angels haven’t wanted Cas as one of them for a long time.

“Yeah, well, we like breaking the rules, don’t we? Scoot over, man,” he orders, shuffling Cas to the other side of the bed so Dean can sit down and take off his boots.

“Is Sam–?” Cas begins to inquire.

“He’s in one piece,” Dean consoles his friend’s desperate need to help. “Might need some of your mojo, though.” He adds, to make sure the subject stays on Sam. Cas is quick though, too quick.

“And what about you?”

“I’m good,” he states defiantly, lying through his teeth of course, but this is one thing he won’t let Cas heal. He needs this, like Cas needed purgatory. The only difference is that here, the monster Dean is running from is himself.

“I wish I had it in me to argue with you,” Cas sighs, conceding to Dean’s stubbornness. Dean’s boots fall to the floor with a thud, but even the jarring sound is not enough to drown out the thrumming of Dean’s heart when he turns around in his seat and sees Cas staring at him with those wide, open honest eyes. “But I do understand the need to… atone.”

Dean gulps, feeling cut adrift, not knowing where this is heading. “Cas–”

Cas places a hand on Dean’s knee, and Dean blinks at it blankly before letting himself take a much needed, heavy breath. Cas’ palm is warm even through the think barrier of Dean’s jeans.

“But Dean, please know I harbour no resentments or anger. I would say I forgive you, but there’s nothing to forgive.”

Dean closes his eyes at the stinging feeling that rises in his throat. “Ain’t that a lie if I ever heard one,” he grits out, shaking his head.

“For once, I’m speaking nothing but the truth. I’m very familiar with guilt, if you remember. And self-punishment.”

“Then you know nothing can make this better, Cas. I don’t–” he opens his eyes, feeling lost and helpless and searching for something, anything to hold on to. Cas’ eyes meet his gaze and hold him there tight, and Dean feels himself leaning into it, into his touch.

“I can’t sleep without seeing it,” he whispers, chest clenching to keep the tightly held secret inside, but Dean forces it forth, “without remembering everything. I thought… I thought this hunt would be good for us–back in the saddle, you know? Give us something normal to do. And believe me, I know it’s fucked up that that’s our normal. But it just reminded me of how fucking screwed we are. The  _monsters_  are even scared of the Darkness, Cas, so where does that leave us?”

Cas frowns to himself, contemplating. “I won’t lie to you and say I know, Dean,” he says gravely, after a moment. His thumb idly strokes a small spot on Dean’s knee, and Dean tries not to shiver. “But I do know that right now, I’m just glad you’re here,” he admits, and looks up again, smiling. “That you’re home.”

“Same,” he chokes out, trying to remember how to form words. “I mean, that you’re here. You don’t–” he starts, about to say ‘ _You don’t know what that means to me,’_  but actually, he suspects Cas  _does_. And isn’t that just the fucking clincher. “I’m glad you stayed.”

“For many years now, it’s all I’ve truly wanted,” Cas admits, and then tilts his head in self-reflective amusement. “It’s perhaps a bit preposterous that it took a witch’s curse to do it, but–”

Dean kisses him.

He wasn’t thinking about doing it, he just _did_ , because Cas’ lips were right there and he was saying such cute things, and god dammit, Dean is in _love_  with him. Why _shouldn’t_  he be kissing Cas every chance he gets?

Dean thinks there used to be a reason for abstaining, for keeping away and his hands to himself, but he honestly can’t remember what it was anymore. He doesn’t hate himself any less, he still looks at his hands and feels like they will never be clean, but none of that seems to matter anymore when it’s  _Cas_  who’s holding those blood stained fingers and telling him they’re beautiful. None of the excuses he used to use make any sense in the face of the impending doom of the Darkness, because isn’t the only thing to do now reach toward the light?

Dean grips Cas’ neck tight, and Cas cradle his head like it’s something precious, like he  _matters_. Dean kisses him and he falls and fall and falls harder, and he’s never felt so alive.

When they pull apart for breath, Dean leans his forehead against Cas’ not wanting to pull away too far. “Hey,” he croaks out, winded but for the first time, in a long time, feeling  _wonderful_.

“Hello,” Cas says back, smile more in his eyes than in his mouth, which has reddened and parted sinfully under Dean’s attentions.

“Can I–?” Dean asks, fingers reaching through Cas’ hair to pull him closer. He doesn’t know what he’s asking for, he just knows he has to  _ask._ Ask for Cas’ touch, for his forgiveness, for his love.

But those things were already freely given.

“Yes, Dean,” Cas says, holding him close. “Of course.”

 


End file.
